


Of The Princes

by Edoraslass



Series: Of The Princes [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:43:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edoraslass/pseuds/Edoraslass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and other such things focusing on Theodred, son of Theoden, or Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth, two of my favourites.</p><div class="center">
  <p>~*~</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Earth Knows No Difference

_To me, Eorlingas!_  
  
He is hewn to the ground, and the earth knows no difference between royal blood and that of less lineage.  
The River cares not that it sweeps his life away in its current.  
The sky does not weep for him, nor does the sun know that its face shines down as the Second Line's heir lays dying.  
The moon will not mark his absence, when it climbs into the night sky.  
The wind continues on its journey eastward.  
  
 _Let me lie here - to keep the Fords til Éomer comes!_

* * *


	2. Superstitious

Imrahil stood on the deck, surveying the fog rolling over the sea. 

  
He favoured night watch, for it was peaceful, easy, and he had time alone to think.

His roving eyes stopped, widened in shock.

Out of nowhere, only a few feet away, there was another ship.

  
It made no sound. He heard no splashing of waves against its hull, nor sails flapping in the gentle breeze. The moonlight seemed to almost shine through it.

He knew that was not possible.

  
Uneasily, he recalled ancient tales of the ghost ship _The Amroth Rover_.

  
It glided by, silent as the grave. 


	3. Spoils of War

"This was all we found, my lord."

Theodred's disquiet turned into dread as he beheld the unmoving bundle the Rider extended.

Only years of fostering an iron will kept Theodred's hands from trembling as he took the bundle. He unwrapped the rough burlap with less-than-practiced fingers, fearing what he would find beneath.

The coarse fibers burned his skin; the blood on the fabric repulsively sticky to the touch.

The child's face was peaceful, if bloodstreaked. Sorrrow welled in Theodred's chest, and he drew one gentle finger down her cold cheek.

She jerked in his arms, opened her mouth, and wailed.


	4. Memory

_"You taste like the sea,"_  
he said, and the salt on her  
skin made him thirsty  
  
Imrahil awoke, and did not know why he had dreamt of his wife, for he did not do so often.  
Pondering, he rose from his bed, soundlessly made his way outside - his night guards unblinking at the sight of their prince about so late -- walked until he stood on the small, private cove where they once swam together when the sea could not be resisted.  
He sat above the break of the waves, remembering the flavour of her skin after a swim.

 


	5. Becalmed

The sea had been smooth, the weather fine, and as yet, they had encountered no brigands.

Imrahil stifled a sigh as he leaned on the rail of the ship. He would rather be home with his three-months' bride than here, idle and bored.

He studied the night sky, remembering how she had once teased him for comparing her eyes to stars. Imrahil had been sincere; when she smiled, her eyes twinkled clear and bright as the guiding star that led weary sailors home. He had not thought he would miss her so.

Still two weeks til they'd return to port.


	6. Pleasure Cruise

"I woke, and you were not there."  
  
Imrahil laid a hand on the slim arm that had gone around his waist. "I was bidding the sea good-night," he confessed. " 'Tis a years-long habit, whenever I am a-shipboard."  
  
"You are be-swanned," she said, surprise in her voice, and light fingers touched the back of his shoulder. "I would not have thought."  
  
"You only now noticed?"  
  
A pause. "I have never been in a position to notice," she replied, and Imrahil could almost hear her blushing. But then warm lips kissed the tattoo he could not see, and he was pleased at the careful touch.  
  
She slid her other arm around him, and laid her cheek against the flat of his shoulder blade. The silk of her dressing gown was cool against his back; the gentle breeze made her loose hair dance, tickling the nape of his neck.  
  
They looked out over the smooth clean water silently, motionless except for her thumb idly brushing his wrist, and Imrahil could not remember when he had last been so content.  
  
She shivered when the wind kicked up briefly, and he turned his head toward her. "We should go below," he said. "Your father will likely take you back if I allow you to catch a chill on your wedding night."  
  
He felt her smile against his skin. "Not until you are quite finished bidding your mistress good evening," she replied, both teasing and not. "It would not do to make her angry."  
  
He chuckled, but did not deny the truth of her words. He turned, drew her to stand next to him. "I am almost finished," he said. "I had thought to introduce you to one another."  
  
She gave a brilliant, sweet smile, tilting her face up to be kissed, and the waves against the hull were a hushed sigh.


	7. Aftermath

The younger Riders were shivering as badly as the horses when they emerged from the cave; the older looked resigned.  
  
Théodred surveyed the damage – trees ripped up by the roots, sod cruelly torn, boulders strewn about, one undamaged wagon wheel. Destruction as far as he could see, a path of ragged earth leading westward.  
  
"W-w-what was it?" the youngest Rider asked, face pale and frightened. "The work of the Enemy?"  
  
"Nothing so predictable," Théodred replied grimly. "A whirlwind, wrought only by nature. We will have much work in the village."  
  
Behind him, someone muttered, "If there _is_ still a village."


End file.
